Living Through the Shadows of Terrorism: Memories of 1980s Punjab
History has a way of unveiling lesser-known chapters that hold profound lessons. One such chapter was etched into our family’s story when my brother became a victim of the Punjab insurgency, revealing the blurred lines between acts of terrorism and deeply personal losses.
We resided in Punjab during the 1980s, a time when terrorism was rampant. I vividly recall the days when the markets shut down well before sunset, and residents hurried to secure their homes by locking their gates. A sense of unease hung in the air, to the extent that even neighbors hesitated to communicate and share information with one another. The prevailing sentiment was that there was little hope for assistance from law enforcement agencies during those uncertain times.
In 1986, my brother, a 28-year-old medical practitioner, had recently opened his private clinic and begun his married life just a year prior, filled with dreams for the future. Tragically, he was shot with three bullets at a time when his son was merely three months old.
Out of the blue, my younger brother, just nine years old, embarked on a harrowing half-mile journey through the pitch-dark night, navigating inner roads to reach our home in search of help. By the time he arrived, paramilitary personnel had already reached the scene and swiftly transported him to the hospital. Unfortunately, the private hospital refused to admit him, deeming it a police case. Subsequently, he was transferred to a government hospital, where he was in critical condition, bleeding profusely.
Desperate for action, the doctors were summoned to perform surgery and extract the bullets. However, the bullets had penetrated so deeply that surgical removal posed life-threatening risks. Consequently, the decision was made not to proceed with the operation to retrieve the bullets.
Meanwhile, my parents were away from the city, and communication was limited, leaving them unaware that their son had been shot. They only discovered the grim news when they read the morning newspaper. Hastening back, they were met with the devastating reality that my brother had developed septicemia due to the bullets left inside him. He valiantly fought for seven days, struggling for his life, but ultimately, he left us.
Tragically, my father, who was already grappling with heart issues, couldn’t withstand the shock of losing his young son. In the aftermath, our family faced the painful decision to leave Punjab in search of safety, reluctantly leaving behind our properties. Selling properties during the turmoil of terrorism was an impractical endeavor.
Additionally, my father had to make the difficult choice to resign from his position within the state government due to the distressing circumstances. In this dark period, we not only mourned the loss of a promising, young, and contributing family member but also shouldered the weighty responsibility of raising his three-month-old, innocent son and his young widow.
